Shy

This is a throwback number, even as early in rock history as it falls. It would be home in the repertoires of the Andrews Sisters or Bing Crosby; one can imagine a Fred Astaire-style tap dance number to accompany it. The song even starts with syncopated snaps that recall tap dancing.

The lyrics mostly expand on the title, with the speaker explaining in various ways how, when he is in the presence of the object of his infatuation, he becomes tongue-tied: "I'm so shy when I'm with you/
Don't know what to say or do" and "When you come walking by/ All that I can do is sigh" and finally "I/ know I love you til I die/ I can't say it cause I'm shy."

He does regret this state of affairs-- "Gee, I wish I weren't shy"-- and does attempt to overcome his reticence. "Each night I look in my mirror," he explains, "And practice what I'm going to say to you." He gives himself pep talks: "I tell myself, 'Be confident.'" He sallies forth with brave intent:"I/ raise my hopes up to the sky."

Of course, once the moment presents itself: "I'm scared to death the minute that I'm with you." Oh, dear. Sigh, indeed.

Since we don't know of the woman's reaction, we have to assume there isn't one. She isn't flattered that he is overcome when he is with her. She isn't annoyed by timidity. It's possible that this is one of those cases in which the boy moans, accurately, "She doesn't even know I exist."

The song plays the idea for comic effect, and the tone is lighthearted. We can image it as a vaudeville number, with a sad-sack crooner mooning and batting his eyes over a hotsy-totsy flapper way out of his league. She flirts with the audience instead of him, inviting their hoots and wolf-whistles. At the end, she leaves the stage, bored. He smiles, sighs, shrugs broadly, and toddles after her, still mooning. Curtain.

Next song: Play Me a Sad Song

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Dreams Can Come True

This lilting little number follows a familiar pattern.  In the first verse, the speaker hearkens back to childhood. In the second verse, he is teen, awakening to the idea of love. And then the third verse finds him discovering this love (the listener/subject of the song, of course, a.k.a. "you.")

Simon's take on this trope has the child as a dreamer-- "I would dream of castles and kings"-- and budding songwriter: "Every song I sung [sic]/ Told a tale of wonderful things."

He grew up believing that... well, see the title.

Once he gets the idea of falling in love, he is content to be passive about it and trust to fate: "I dreamed that someday I/ Would awake and find you, my love." If dreams can come true, they will have to do so on their own. To be fair, he found her passively, as he predicted: "You came into my life."

Then, he says that he had done with dreaming: "I knew that my dreams were through." At first ,we imagine that he means that he no longer had the need to dream of love, once he had it in actuality.

This is true, but there is another side to his no-longer-dreaming, namely, the realities of life and love in the real world: "...we faced sorrow and strife." A rude awakening, for this dreamer.

Further, he did find the wrong person first, and it is implied that she was unfaithful: "I could feel that this love was true." There is an emphasis on "this," implying not only that there were others, but that those relationships were... problematic.

"Dreams can come true," the speaker repeats again (for that line, twice, is the chorus), concluding, "And you are my dream come true." Awww!

The melody is, well, dreamy. The backing vocal, however, is unusual to the point of being distracting. Instead of the usual "ooh-wah-ooh" or "sha-la-lah," we get this: "Run-tsu-dee-run-do-run-tsee-run." And, on top of that, some "ch-ch" vocalizations.

Perhaps this is meant to further the idea of the lullaby feeling of the song. If so, it's no "too-rah-loo-rah-loo-rah."

There is nothing wrong with the idea of trying to create a new "wop-bop-a-loo-bop." But maybe not in a love song...?


Next Song: Shy

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Loneliness

Among the hundreds of words Shakespeare is credited with coining, one of the most popular must be "lonely." In fact, it can be shown by a catalog of his lyrics that Sting would not have had a songwriting career without this word. Simon himself has many titles that use the word in some form, and both songwriters-- now on tour together-- have explored the idea in great depth and breadth.

This is actually quite an affecting little song. It's melancholy without lapsing into lugubriousness.The lyrics are pitched a bit above the average teeny-bop reading level, making it poetic without being academically so.

This time, we have a speaker lying in bed thinking about his lost love: "Loneliness/ You're gone and I must confess/ My nights are spent in misery/ Only my sorrow lingers with me."

In the next verse, Simon uses imagery that Smokey Robinson later would in songs like "Tracks of My Tears" and "Tears of a Clown," of the person who is only smiling on the outside: "Although I laugh, it's just a pose/ Inside I cry, but nobody knows."

He explains that he is "playing a part," but he "can't deceive [his] heart," let alone laugh his way out of his doldrums.

Then he poses a paradox:  "There's no one to share my loneliness," he says. Yes, but if someone were there, wouldn't that mean he would not be lonely in the first place? This is similar to the idea Stevie Nicks poses, in "Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You?" with her lyric: "I'd rather be alone/ Than be without you."

It gets to the root of why Shakespeare needed the word to begin with. "Alone" is one thing; it just mean "solitary." Some people, like Norma Desmond, even want to be alone. But if being alone is a problem for you, then you are "lonely"... even in a crowd. If "alone" is just "1," then "lonely" is "2 minus 1."

Stevie Nicks would rather be simply "alone" altogether-- with no one at all, and no emotional loss-- than be "without" the one she loves. To her, it is, despite the saying, better to have "never loved at all" than to have "loved and lost."

And Simon, here, could have a friend or brother, similarly heartbroken or longing for love, and at least have someone to "fill the emptiness" and talk about how lonely they are.

The song closes on a note of despair: "I can't forget your memory/ At night, it haunts my reverie."
Maybe things will look better in the morning? "Without your love, I can't endure." Maybe not.

This is not a song of agony, of gnashing teeth and tearing hair. It is not a song, like Sting's "Every Breath You Take," of rage and possessive revenge.

It is simply a long sigh. It's the song of the dull, continuous ache of an endless-seeming, solitary night, spent staring at the ceiling, in a bed with only one's regrets for company. While our speaker's eyes may be welled with tears, he's past weeping. Now, it just hurts.

The bass backup singers presage Simon's use of such groups as the Jesse Dixon Singers and the Dixie Hummingbirds. Meanwhile, the twangy bass-line on guitar  recalls that of early Johnny Cash.

Simon's delivery is a major part of the song's success. He doesn't emote much, or even moan. He's too wrung out, emotionally, for that. He returns to this delivery in songs like "Hearts and Bones" and especially "How the Heart Approaches What it Yearns." This song is a lost, understated gem.

Next Song: Dreams Can Come True

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Wow Cha-Cha-Cha

In case anyone was wondering, this song is a cha-cha. Once again, the singer is neither Paul nor Art, but someone professional, playful... and a tad generic.

This song is a dismiss-able bit of pop fluff, but it's really nice to hear Simon-- excuse me, "Landis"-- just enjoying himself. There is no anxiety here (save for the repeated line "don't you ever leave") or loneliness, or anything but good, clean fun.

Speaking of generic, the lyrics are almost too cliche to bother with: "When I cha-cha-cha with you, wow!/ Like a shock from out the blue/ Feel that message comin' through/ It's love, cha-cha-cha."

Yes, our singer sings "cha-cha-cha." About 10 times. But to be fair, anyone assaying this dance is muttering "one-two... cha-cha-cha" to himself as he does so.

The rest of the lyrics are about as obvious as they come: "Don't you dance too far away/ Here is what I have to say/ Love has finally come my way/ It's heaven" and "How I tingle through and through/ You have made my dreams come true."

Oh, and the bridge? "Kiss me/ Hold Me/ Thrill me" each followed by, you guessed it, "cha-cha-cha."

Did it take a Paul Simon to write this? No. But it did give him the chance to try yet another "world music" rhythm... and pen something airy and sprightly about dancing and flirting with the one you love.

Only a true curmudgeon would scowl at something like that.

Next Song: Loneliness

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(Please) Forgive Me

This is an extremely sad number. It's from the point of view of a desperate, depressed person, and his reasons for his woe are revealed somewhat... but never made perfectly clear.

The song starts with the same chord progression as "Earth Angel" and dozens of other songs from its era. The other thing we hear is a young, Pat Boone-rich, Johnny Mathis-creamy voice that I am very sad to say is not identified.

The lyrics open enigmatically: "Sitting here thinking what life's all about/... till I'm ready to shout./  I've lived a big lie and now I'm going to die."

Which is dramatic... but so far unspecific. The second verse has the speaker approached by someone he knows: "that man," about whom we only learn that he has a "smiling face."

This man has a task, namely escorting our speaker "to that place/ Where life's at an end and where there's not a friend to love."

At this point in the riddle, we are ready to guess an answer. The speaker is a convict. He has lied about something, and is now to be executed. The man's-- jailer's-- smile now seems much less benign, and much more sinister.

This seems extreme-- capital punishment is usually reserved for crimes of violence and murder. Most of the severest lies involve only, perhaps, embezzlement or fraud. But even the most big-time thieves only get life imprisonment. In this case, living a double life is costing his actual one. Were drugs involved? Murder by proxy? Treason?

We don't know. Perhaps the death penalty is being used here metaphorically; life imprisonment can seem like death, and a place "without a friend" might imply solitary confinement. Or perhaps the songwriter is ignorant of the legal code, or simply decided that jail wasn't dramatic enough for his poetic purposes.

In the bridge, we see that "die" might, in fact, have been an exaggeration all along: "I'm on my way to stay/ And when I'm gone I'll have pity and fear/ For those like me who never will be free." Oh, so it is life imprisonment?

Maybe... the line then is then completed: "...who never will be free/ Of a worthless life filled with sadness and strife." So, he will not be "free of [his] life." He will have to live with his misery...but not literally die.

It begins to dawn on the listener that the substance of the punishment is immaterial. The speaker is going to be punished for his lie of a life, either by dying for it or by a "living death" of lifetime incarceration.

The song ends twice. Once, with an Aesop-like device: "The moral of my song is easy to see/ Don't live a life like mine-- be happy and carefree/ Love and be loved, then life will be but a dream." This seems unnecessary. In a 30-second public service announcement, we might need to be told outright that only we can prevent forest fires. But here, this spelling-out of the theme is a bit egregious.

Then, this, tacked on to the very end: "O Lord, please forgive me." Well, now we have the title. But it's unclear as to whether he is asking the Lord for forgiveness, or if it's more of an "Oh Lord," an expression like "Oh dear," "Oh woe," or "Oh man."

Simon returned to this character, the repentant criminal, in "Wednesday Morning, 3AM" (and its remix, "Somewhere They Can't Find Me") but in a more specific, less bathetic and preachy way... making the song more effective. He gives the criminal a definite crime, full of detail. And he gives him a lady love to leave as he flies justice.

What hasn't changed is what the criminal most regrets. Not, say, having disappointed someone or having hurt someone or even having sinned. No, he regrets what might have been, had he not committed his crime.


Next Song: Wow Cha-Cha-Cha

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Just a Boy

The idea of an inter-generational romance is not new. Sometimes accepted as "May-December romance," sometimes derided as "cradle robbing," it is a fraught subject. Terms like "MILF" and "twink" are just the latest in a long line of attempts to deal with this, shall we say, phenomenon... going back through the movies The Graduate and Harold and Maude, the song "Maggie Mae," the novel Lolita, and even, in a way, all the way to the tale of Oedipus.

This time, we get a touch of foreshadowing in the title itself. The first verse is still circumspect: "I am just a boy/ Not a... man/ But your love gives me strength/ To do the best I can." This speaks to the age of the male speaker, not his subject.

But no doubt can be had after the second verse. Here, he more pointedly contrasts the two of them. He is "unwise and full of fears." But she counters that with "the wisdom of many years."

Yes, we have just unquestionably entered-- as the TV show title would have it-- Cougar Town.

While there are many rites of passage in every culture that delineate the passage to adulthood, one can be deemed universal-- the one in the chorus: "Though I'm young/ I still can understand/ Your love, someday/ Will turn this boy into a man."

The "someday" gives us hope. Perhaps this is a crush on a teacher or a friend's older sister or (we hope) single mother. But it is clear that this, um, "relationship"-- and the older person in question might not even be aware of it-- has not yet been consummated. So no investigations or lawsuits are pending. Yet.

The last verse seems to throw a wrench into our theory: "Though I'm just a boy/ On this, you can rely/ You are just the girl/ I will love till I die." Still, it is doubtful that his calling her a "girl" means that we are wrong and that she in fact is one; he has already said he has "may years." Rather, it is probably a compliment: "I don't see you as 'old'! In my eyes, you are youthful like me, and so a totally appropriate choice for me (even if you are not, technically, 'young')."

The situation is common, and so the sentiments are. The idea that "I am in high school, but everyone else my age might as well be in grade school, as I am so much more mature" is often followed by "and therefore, I can only love someone as mature as I... someone already past high-school age." Finding such a target of one's aspirational affections is not hard, and such songs are the next logical step.

Let us hope that this is a schoolboy crush on a teacher or something, and that (despite his protests of love unending) he will soon find someone more appropriate before restraining orders are brought to bear. If he does confess his feelings, she is, we hope, able to use her "many-yeared wisdom" to break his heart gently.

Next Song: Forgive Me

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I'd Like to Be

This slight cha-cha is a song of the sort I call simply a "list song." The songwriter comes up with an idea, and then just extends it for the length of a song, listing as many permutations as he can rhyme.

Examples abound. Take the song this one presages, "The Way You Do The Things You Do." In that Temptations classic, the speaker compares his lover to a list of various objects that are known for performing certain functions very well. Her smile is so she's so smart, she "could have been a schoolbook"; and she's so pretty, she "could have been a flower." The whole song is a list of such things she "could have" been.

Here, the speaker lists the things he would like to be. And all of them are in contact with the body of his beloved.

These include her clothes ("high-heeled shoes," "coat around your shoulder")... her accessories and jewelry ("ribbon in your hair," "belt around your tiny waist," "your bracelet and your glove").... even her cosmetics.

In fact, the first such items he mentions that he'd "like to be" are: "The lipstick on [her] your lovely lips... the polish on [her] fingertips."

The most intimate object he'd like to be is... well, no, this was still the 1950s! It's not a clothing item at all, but "the chocolate candy that [she] tastes."

And, in case you were in total suspense about what he rhymes with "glove," the last line is the payoff: "But most of all/ I'd like to be the one you love."

This implies she has not returned his affections yet. It remains to be seen if she is interested in returning the affections of one so very, very interested in touching her-- nay, enveloping her.

While most of these things encircle and embrace her, the way "tender" or "loving"-- to borrow terms from other such songs-- arms might, the "chocolate candy that you taste" is an unmistakeable metaphor.

One way of looking at this is that he wants things to be equal. He wants to envelope her, but is equally willing to be enveloped by her. But that, in today's lingo, is almost definitive co-dependency.

Now, there is nothing necessarily wrong with erotic images expressed by one who is already intimate with his listener. But there are two "red flags" here. One, the images are erotic too soon, before intimacy or even familiarity. The other is the smothering nature of the images.

While we can argue that the Temptations song has its faults-- it literally objectifies the woman by comparing her to objects, for one-- at least there is only one image of "holding you so tight." Here, almost every object the speaker conjures is one of surrounding her or buffering her from the outside world. Surely, irrational jealousy cannot be far behind.

Also, the Temptations song is upbeat and airy. Our song is smoky and  sultry. The emotion meant to be conveyed is seduction, but he knows she doesn't even love him yet.

So while, structurally, the song presages "The Way You Do the Things You Do," on an emotional level, it foreshadows a more shadowy one: The Police's "I'll Be Watching You."


Next Song: Just a Boy

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